


Lost in the Fire

by dierdele



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Back seat car sex, Hotel Sex, M/M, NSFW, but also suck each other off, there's a lot of smut but I'm going to argue there IS some plot too, they realise their feelings and stuff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/pseuds/dierdele
Summary: Eric drives Dele to the airport for the Nations League finals, but they make a stop along the way.Or, Dele and Eric fuck on the back seats of Eric's Range Rover.UPDATED! Now featuring a second chapter in which the boys land in Portugal and fuck all over again. Some big questions come knocking at the door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the anon who sent me this prompt! 💕 This is for you.

It’s a long drive to the airport, and with Dele whining next to him about being too hot, too cold, too hungry, too bored - well, now Eric is starting to regret ever offering to give him a lift.

They’ve both been called up to the England squad for the Nations League finals, which Eric is pleasantly surprised about after the season he’s had - but that’s not a thought he wants to linger on. Instead, he focuses on the future. On getting to Portugal and winning the Nations League and-

“Diet, I’ve got a hard on,” Dele says nonchalantly, looking down into his lap. He sounds like he’s just discovered his dick for the first time and he wants Eric to know what he’s found.

Eric glances at him from the driver’s seat, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. “We’re on the M25, what could possibly have given you a hard on?” He says, opting for the sigh.

Dele shrugs and laughs to himself, pushing down on his crotch. “No idea,” he says coolly. “Anyway, what’s this shit music you’re playing? Put Vossi Bop on.” Dele reaches out to take the aux cord from Eric’s phone but Eric slaps his hand away.

“You know the rules,” Eric reminds him. Dele rolls his eyes but abides by the ‘no messing with my music’ rule. He slouches back in his seat and pulls his knees up to his chest, tucking his feet beneath him. His trainers lay discarded in the foot well.

“Wanna play eye spy?” Dele asks, staring out the window at the passing cars. Eric ignores him because Dele has already asked this question five minutes ago, and Eric has already said no. It’s not that he doesn’t like the game, it’s just that Dele picks the stupidest things, like “my supreme intelligence” or “my mad skills” or “the dust on your backseat cause you never get laid”.

Eric flicks the music buttons on his wheel instead and skips every song until he gets to Vossi Bop. Dele immediately perks up and jabs a finger at the volume button to turn it up.

“Tune,” Dele grins. He starts singing along to the lyrics, bobbing his head in time to the beat. He looks at Eric and Eric looks back at him, shooting him a warm smile.

They both sing along to Vossi Bop, flying down the M25 until it’s finally time for Eric to take a slip road into a quiet little town.

Dele switches between feet on the seat, feet on the dashboard, and feet up against the passenger window. Eric smacks his thigh and reminds him that if they crash, Dele’s legs will be smashed to pieces.

“Would you still be my mate if I had no legs?” Dele asks seriously. He breathes against the window to fog it up and then uses his finger to carefully spell out his name.

“You ask the weirdest questions,” Eric replies with a small laugh. “But yeah, I suppose.” He takes the next left onto a country road and cycles through his music until he gets to _Lost in the Fire_ by The Weeknd. Another one of Dele’s favourites.

“ _I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on_ ,” Dele sings. He breathes on the window again and this time draws out the word ERIC.

Eric wants to tell him off, wants to remind him that whenever Dele does that, it leaves dirty marks on his window, but he can’t quite bring himself to say anything. He just looks sideways at Dele drawing out the R and then the I and then the C, and he can’t help but smile to himself. _So immature,_ he thinks.

Dele sings along to the song again, and even though he doesn’t have the best singing voice, he somehow manages to pull it off. Eric watches him for a moment, noting the way he lounges back in his seat in his white t-shirt and black shorts, one foot up on the seat all confident and cocky, like he’s daring Eric to look at him, to tell him off, to scold him again. He mumbles the lines of the song while staring out of the window, his head tilted at an angle and the sunlight bouncing off his cheekbones. _What are you doing?_ Eric thinks to himself, getting annoyed at Dele’s blatant attempt to look somewhat… inviting. But then he realises Dele isn’t doing anything at all. He’s just sitting there, singing along. He’s not even looking at Eric. He’s just-

Licking his lips. Slowly, _painfully_ slowly. And his jaw and cheekbones - were they always that sharp? _Why are you licking your lips like that?_ Eric keeps looking between the road and Dele. _What are you doing?_   

“Still got that hard on?” Eric asks, and as soon as the question spills out of him, he knows it sounds weird.

Dele doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he says confidently, finally turning to look at Eric. He grabs his dick through his shorts and nods. “Yeah I do,” he says again, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eric swallows the lump in his throat and keeps his gaze locked to the road, forcing a small, awkward laugh. “Bit weird that, mate.”

“Not a lot I can do about it,” Dele shrugs. “Unless you wanna pull over and sort me out?”

Eric turns to fix Dele with an unimpressed glare. “Very funny, Del.”

“Wasn’t a joke,” Dele says, a little too seriously. Eric can’t look at him, can’t remember how to breathe in a way that isn’t strained and uncomfortable. _You’re so annoying,_ Eric thinks, but he can already feel himself getting hard in his jeans.

He shifts in his seat and doesn’t reply, because _no_ , he’s not doing this. He’s not going along with Dele’s dumb little joke. Absolutely not.

“Sort yourself out,” Eric mumbles before he can think it through. He doesn’t actually want Dele to do that, so he doesn’t know why he just said it. Just joking, probably. Dele will know that. He won’t actually start jacking off in Eric’s car. They might occasionally flirt in training and fall asleep in the same bed in hotels, but they’re both very much straight, and they know their boundaries, and there’s no way that Dele will-

“The fuck are you doing?” Eric asks, his voice climbing an octave.

Dele continues unbuttoning his shorts. He ignores Eric’s question, fumbling with the last button, and then wiggles around until he’s pulled his shorts down to his ankles.

“You said I should-” Dele begins, but Eric cuts him off.

“I didn’t fucking mean it! Oh my god, Dele, you are not wanking in my car!”

“Why?” Dele asks.

“Why? Because- Because you’re- and I’m-”

“What?”

“Because you’re gonna make me crash, or something.”

“Then pull over,” Dele says. He sits in his seat like nothing at all is wrong, even though his shorts are around his ankles and he’s legs are spread and Eric can _clearly_ see his erection through his light grey boxers.

Eric’s brain cannot function properly. It’s supplying him with crazy, ridiculous ideas that he doesn’t want to even comprehend. Ideas like pulling over, stopping the car, and helping Dele get off in the hope that Dele might even return the favour.

In a desperate attempt to _not_ think about those things, Eric is about to suggest they play eye spy instead. But then he remembers the last game they played, remembers that Dele chose _the dust on your backseat cause you never get laid,_ and that’s when his brain unhelpfully supplies him with the image of fucking Dele on the backseat just to prove him wrong.

“Oh,” Dele says quietly. Eric manages to break himself away from his thoughts for just long enough to realise that he’s pulled over. _Oh,_ he thinks.

He turns off the engine and sits back in his seat, taking small, shallow breaths. He’s painfully hard now, and straining against his jeans.

“Okay,” Dele says nervously. Eric can feel Dele’s gaze on the side of his face, but he refuses to turn and meet it. He keeps looking straight ahead, focusing on his breathing instead, and on organising his thoughts into ‘logical’ and ‘batshit crazy’. Most fall into the latter.

_Need air,_ Eric thinks. He’s pulled over in a dirt lay-by. They’ve got open fields on one side of them and woods on the other. There’s no one around, no houses, no buildings, no witnesses. It’s just them and this lonely, quiet country road. _Fuck._

Eric gets out of the car and begins to pace. He runs his fingers through his hair and tells himself to calm down, to just get back in the car and drive away. They can laugh this off, pretend this whole situation never happened. It can be that easy.

“Eric,” Dele’s voice carries on the wind. Eric looks up to find Dele has gotten out of the car too. He’s standing by the passenger door, his shorts back around his waist but still unbuttoned. He looks nervous and apologetic. “Look, I was just messing...” Dele says, but he tapers off. He bites his bottom lip and chews on it for a moment.

Eric stares at him and his mind goes completely blank. It’s barely 1pm, they’re on their way to the airport to meet up with the rest of the team, they’re in the middle of nowhere, and all Eric can think about is that song Dele was singing along to. _I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on._

“Diet-”

Dele’s breath catches in his throat when Eric walks over to him and pushes him up against the car door. There’s a moment of hesitation, when Eric thinks he might be making a terrible mistake, but then Dele chews his bottom lip again, and a small smile breaks out in the corner of his mouth. His eyes go dark as he looks Eric up and down, staring at the hand that Eric has pressed firmly against Dele’s chest.

“Get on your knees,” Eric instructs. It surprises them both.

Dele was fully expecting Eric to be the one getting on his knees. Eric knows that, but he doesn’t care. He looks into Dele’s eyes and watches as Dele processes what is happening. He looks confused, looks like he might even argue, but then he licks his lips and carefully nods his head.

He goes down slowly, sliding his back against the car down as he drops to his knees. Eric places an encouraging hand on his shoulders and glances around one last time to make sure no other cars are on the road.

“Take my jeans down,” Eric says. His voice is shaky bit firm. His heart is racing in his chest and he’s worried that he might not last long if Dele really does go through with this. He wonders if he should stop him, but Dele’s hands scramble at Eric’s fly, and then he’s tugging on Eric’s jeans, and his boxers come down too, and then his dick is inches from Dele’s face.

Dele pauses, looking up at Eric like he’s waiting for permission. Eric is too far gone to do anything other than nod desperately.

Dele wraps his mouth around the tip of Eric’s cock, and in that moment, Eric can barely remember his own name.

It’s messy and Dele doesn’t seem to know much about sucking dick. But he gives it a good go, and Eric can’t fault him for effort. Eric has to brace himself against the car with one hand while the other clings to the hair on the back of Dele’s head. He pulls it whenever Dele curls his tongue or goes a little deeper or moans, causing his throat to vibrate in all the best ways imaginable.

Eric’s on the verge of coming when he suddenly sees a car approaching in his peripheral vision. In a panic, he pulls his dick out of Dele’s mouth and uses his hand to force Dele to stay down, keeping him out of sight. Dele whimpers and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks around, confused, and is about to say something when Eric shushes him.

The car drives past and continues up the road.

Eric lets out the breath he was holding before looking down at Dele. It almost floors him, the sight of Dele on his knees, his mouth parted and wet, his eyes wide and desperate. He wants to tell Dele to continue, that everything is fine now, but the words get choked up in his mouth. He can’t take his eyes off of Dele’s beautiful face, or off the sight of his mouth hanging slightly open like that.

_Fuck._

Eric pulls Dele to his feet and Dele goes limp against the car, already breathless. They look at each for a moment before Eric leans forward and presses a kiss firmly against Dele’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Dele to open his mouth, to let Eric’s tongue collide with his own. He’s needy, desperate, and his hands are all over Eric now, clutching at the front of his shirt as he tries to pull Eric impossibly closer.

“Eric-” Dele breathes into the small space between their mouths. He moans when Eric kisses him harder, pushing his hips against Eric’s in response.

Eric breaks away just long enough to open the door to the back seats. Dele throws him a confused look when Eric holds the door open for him, and then the realisation hits him. He lets out a small whimper before ducking under Eric’s arm and crawling into the back seats. Eric follows him and pulls the door closed.

“Eric,” Dele says again. It’s the only word he can muster, and the only word that Eric wants to hear. He remembers Dele drawing his name on the window and wonders if it’s left a mark. He hopes so.

“Come here,” Eric says softly. Dele lies down on the back seats and Eric lies half next to him, half on top of him. His Range Rover is roomy enough for them both to fit, but he still can’t stop himself from pinning Dele down against the seats, especially when it draws out a moan low in Dele’s throat.

Dele’s fingertips flutter down Eric’s chest. He tugs on the hem of Eric’s shirt, whimpering quietly until Eric uses his free hand to pull the shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off and discarded on the floor, Dele is all over him, his hand flat against his chest while he kisses Eric’s collar bones and sucks on the hollow of his neck.

That’s when the panic sets in, when the realisation of what they’re doing right now really hits him. Eric freezes and his vision goes hazy. _Fuck fuck fuck._ They shouldn’t be doing this. Dele should _not_ be leaving love bites across his neck right now, should _not_ be scrambling at Eric’s boxers to get them down again, and he should _not_ be whispering Eric’s name in _that_ tone of voice.

He shouldn’t. _They_ shouldn’t. This is crazy.

Dele stops kissing him and pauses when he can see that Eric has shut himself off. His eyes search Eric’s face, but Eric can’t give him anything. He just looks down at Dele, desperate for something that will make his brain shut up for a minute, something that will give him clarity.

“I want this,” Dele chokes out.

And there it is. The something Eric was looking for, the reason for doing this. _Because we want to_. And that’s enough.

“I want you too,” Eric says. He realises his slip up almost instantly but doesn’t bother to correct himself. _Want this, want you._ He means both.

Eric strips Dele’s clothes from him and tosses them into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Dele mutters. He tugs at Eric’s boxers and smiles sheepishly. “Don’t wanna be the only naked one.”

Eric can’t help but grin at him. “You shy, Del?”

“Shut up,” Dele whines, but he can’t hide the smile that breaks out across his face. “Just…” His voice goes quiet and Eric pauses to listen to him. “Just take these off, please.”

“Then what?” Eric whispers. He sounds more confident that he feels. Inside, his stomach is doing somersaults.

“Then…” Dele tapers off again. His voice is low and gravelly. He shrugs but holds Eric’s eye contact. “Then fuck me?”

Eric hadn’t really thought about anything beyond getting Dele into the back seat and getting his clothes off. If anything, he thought maybe they’ll suck each other off and be on their way. But Dele’s looking at him now, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips wet and parted again, his head tilted at an angle. _You’re so fucking inviting,_ Eric thinks. _So fucking beautiful._  

How can he say no?

Eric’s boxers slip off in one easy motion. They end up in the footwell of the passenger seat, probably draped across Dele’s expensive trainers.

“You want me to fuck you?” Eric asks. Dele’s nodding emphatically, but Eric wants to hear him say it. Both because he fucking _needs_ to hear him say it but also because he actually needs him to confirm that this is what he wants, that this is okay.

“I want you to fuck me,” Dele says, breathless and impatient. His hands trail up the back of Eric’s shoulders and Eric responds by climbing on top of him and using his knee to knock Dele’s legs apart.

“You want me to fuck you in the back of my car? Is that what you want, Del?”

“I want you to fuck me in the back of your car,” Dele whines.

Eric looks down over Dele’s body, takes in the sight of him with his legs spread on the back seats, his cock leaking precome onto his stomach. It’s making his head swim in ways he’s never experienced before.

“Want me to finger you?” Eric asks. He trails kisses down Dele’s chest and Dele covers his face with his hands, trying to catch his breath. He’s still nodding.

“Yes,” he says shakily.

Eric kisses down to his stomach and lightly nips at the skin on his hip bone. Dele squirms beneath him and Eric soothes the skin with his tongue.

“Want to feel my mouth?” Eric asks.

Dele whines again, louder this time. He bucks his hips up into Eric until Eric slides further down, still trailing kisses. He presses his mouth everywhere _but_ Dele’s cock. He lifts Dele’s leg with his hand and mouths at the inside of his thigh, softly biting at the sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” Dele croaks. He’s still bucking his hips, still squirming, but Eric won’t give in. Not yet.

He continues to press kisses to Dele’s thighs, to his hips, even grabs his hand and kisses his fingers. Dele all but combusts when Eric sucks one of them into his mouth.

“Killing me,” Dele mumbles. “You’re killing me, Diet.”

“Delboy,” Eric responds, almost scolding. He just wants to say the name, wants to fill his mouth with his favourite word. “Patience.”

Dele groans and bends his knees, lifting his ass off the seat just enough for Eric to glimpse a view.

It happens before Eric can stop himself, before he can think it through or even ask if it’s okay. He pushes Dele’s hips off of the seat and tentatively licks at his asshole. Dele squirms again, but the noise that escapes him tells Eric that yes, he’s definitely okay with this. So Eric does it again, and again, until Dele is a mess beneath him, choking out _Dier_ and _fuck_ and _ohmygoderic._

Eric has to hold Dele steady at first, but then Dele settles a little, manages to keep himself still for long enough that Eric can take one of his hands from Dele’s hips and bring it down to his ass instead. He looks up at Dele, preparing to ask if he’s ready, but Dele’s head is thrown back, he’s resting his arm across his forehead, and his eyes have already slipped shut. He pants a little, and after a few more seconds of Eric not doing anything, he finally opens his eyes.

“You want me to fuck you, Delboy?” Eric asks. Dele bites his bottom lip and nods.

“Please,” Dele chokes out. Eric thinks if there’s one image he wants to remember for the rest of his life, it’s this. Dele looking desperate and needy, his legs spread, his lips raw from where he’s been biting them, and his hands shaking at his sides. “Dier…” Dele says when Eric still doesn’t do anything. “Eric… _please._ ”

Eric quickly sucks his middle finger into his mouth to cover it in saliva, and then he pushes it softly against Dele’s asshole until it slips inside.

Dele gasps audibly, and Eric is worried he might be hurting him. He begins to ease his finger back out but Dele groans and shakes his head.

“No,” Dele chokes out. “Don’t stop.”

Eric nods and pushes his finger further inside Dele, familiarising himself with the new territory. It’s tight, and warm, and Dele moans loudly whenever Eric crooks his finger upwards.

It takes them a couple of minutes before Dele fully relaxes, but when he does, he’s pleading with Eric to fuck him faster. Eric obliges, thrusting his finger deeper every time, until he feels like he can fit in a second.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ ” Dele wails. He mumbles something mostly incoherent, but Eric’s pretty sure he hears his name in there somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, _I love you._

“What was that you said?” Eric asks with a teasing grin. He flashes his eyes at Dele but Dele throws his head back again and lifts his hips into Eric’s touch, letting Eric bury his fingers deeper inside him.

“Nothing,” Dele says around moans. “Nothing- just- _ohfuck_ , fuck, mmm.”

“Okay,” Eric says, shooting another knowing smile up at Dele. “If you say so.”

Eric pushes a third finger inside Dele and he’s surprised at how easy it is, how Dele seems to just melt around him. Dele sinks into the back seats of Eric’s Ranger Rover and buries a moan into his hands.

_"Please_ ,” Dele whispers. Eric isn’t expecting it, so he’s not sure what exactly Dele is asking for until he looks at him and sees Dele staring at him with dark, glossy eyes. He inhales shakily. “Please, Eric.”

Eric nods wordlessly. He’s not sure he’d be able to string a sentence together even if he tried. His mind has turned to mush because he’s about to fuck Dele. He’s about to fuck his teammate, his _best friend_.

_I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on._

Eric repositions himself, clambering to his knees. Dele goes to move too but Eric puts a hand on his hip to stop him.

“Stay there,” he instructs. Dele does as he’s told.

Eric sticks two fingers in his mouth and spits on them, using them to lubricate his dick even though it’s already slick with precome.

“Tell me, okay?” Eric says. His voice is high pitched and nervous, but Dele is already nodding. “Tell me if it hurts, or if you want me to stop, or if-”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Dele interrupts. He brings his hand to Eric’s chest and lays it flat against Eric’s heart.

Eric leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to his mouth. It feels different, somehow, like it doesn’t quite belong in this back seat fumble. Dele seems to feel it too, because when he’s pulling away he’s almost frowning, confusion knitting his brow together.

“Del…” Eric holds his gaze and dips back in for another kiss. “ _Dele_.” The name comes out as a whisper against Dele’s lips. Dele’s smile is shaky, but it’s something. It’s soft, delicate, like Dele fingertips stroking the back of Eric’s neck.

_This doesn’t fit,_ Eric thinks. _This is different._

Eric bites Dele’s bottom lip and Dele moans. It’s the sound Eric needed to pull himself back to reality. It sends electric currents down his body, straight to his dick.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, Del."

Dele nods. He’s putty in Eric’s hands, and Eric knows it.

Eric lines himself up and slowly, carefully pushes his way inside of Dele’s asshole. It takes all the strength in his body not to come right there and then, but he just about manages to hold off, even though Dele is _incredibly_ tight around his cock.

“Fuck, Del,” Eric says. He closes his eyes and bites down hard on the inside of his mouth. He needs the pain to ground him, to stop him from spilling his come inside of Dele in a matter of seconds. “You okay?"

Dele makes a low, gravelly noise and digs his fingertips into Eric’s shoulder blades.

Eric pushes further inside of him and bites harder on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood, but he quickly licks the wound to heal it. Dele squeezes around his cock and Eric wonders if this is what passing out feels like.

His hand slaps against the window as he braces himself. Dele wraps his legs around Eric’s waist and pulls Eric back to his mouth.

“Fuck me, Eric, _please._ ”

Eric steadies himself. He presses a kiss to the corner of Dele’s mouth and takes a deep breath.

It lasts all of about eight minutes, and Dele is a mess the entire time. He babbles incoherently, muttering Eric’s name as Eric fucks into him. They grab hold of each other and Eric’s fairly sure he’s going to have bruises in all the places where Dele’s fingertips have dug into his shoulders. But he doesn’t care about that, or about the love bites that Dele has scattered up the side of his neck, or about the fact that they’re definitely going to be late to the airport. The only thing on his mind is how fucking good Dele feels around his cock, and how incredible those moans sound next his ear, and how intoxicating Dele’s mouth is against his jaw.

“I said I love you,” Dele says suddenly.

He gasps when Eric grabs his dick and starts moving his hand up and down. Eric’s close, very close. Too fucking close for Dele to be saying words like that.

His hand fumbles up and down Dele’s cock, collecting the precome that has oozed out while Eric as been fucking him.

“I’m-” Dele begins. He throws his head back again and opens his mouth around choked syllables. “I’m gonna-”

“It’s okay,” Eric chokes out. “Me too.”

He thrusts inside Dele with all the energy he has left in his body, and then he feels himself coming apart at the seems. The knot in his stomach unwinds, everything goes a little fuzzy, and then he’s coming inside Dele in what might be the best orgasm of his life.

Eric’s not exactly sure what happens next because he loses all focus, but he hears Dele moaning and then he feels a warmth in his hand. When he looks down, his sees that his fingers are coated in Dele’s come.

Eric’s knees go weak and Dele lies still for a moment while he catches his breath. He stares up out the window of the car. Eric watches him, wondering what happens next. He’s still inside Dele, his own come pooled around him, and his hand is wet and sticky. Dele’s dripping on him, his cock twitching in Eric’s hand. How are they going to explain any of this? How late are they?

“We should...” Eric begins, his voice catching. He clears his throat before adding, “We should probably get going. Gareth won’t be happy if we’re...” He looks down at his hand and feels like an idiot. Dele is sprawled beneath him, completely out of it, probably not taking in a word of what Eric is saying, and Eric is thinking about Gareth being mad at them instead of seeing the bigger picture here. Instead of thinking about the one thing that keeps bouncing around in his head.

_I said I love you._

Eric swallows thickly and looks around his car. He hasn’t got tissues, he hasn’t got anything. All of his clothes are in the front of the car. How is he going to do this? He’s naked, he’s covered in come. He’s still inside Dele. And they’re late.

Eric eases out of Dele and Dele whines, finally opening his eyes to look up at Eric.

“We have to go,” Eric says again, a little more urgently. “We’re going to be late.”

Dele takes a second to process, but then he nods. A fierce blush creeps up his face when he looks down at himself.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Eric agrees. His heart is in his throat. Dele looks… pissed off? Scared? Like he regrets it? Eric can’t really tell. He thought he knew all of Dele’s expressions, but this one is foreign to him.

“Do you have…”

“No, but I have a spare hoodie in my boot. I’ll get that. I’ll just wash it when we get back.”

“Okay,” Dele says mutely. He shuffles back away from Eric and searches the floor for his boxers.

Eric picks them off the gear stick and hands them to him. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

It takes some awkward maneuvering, but Eric manages to clamber into the front seat to retrieve their clothes. He puts on enough that he can hop outside and fetch the hoodie from his boot, which he immediately wipes his hand on before tossing it to Dele to clean his stomach.

They don’t talk. They barely even look at each other.

Once Dele is back in the passenger seat and staring out of the window in silence, Eric fires up the engine and pulls the car back out into the road. He sets off down the country lane and his sat nav tells him they’re forty minutes away. Only fifteen minutes late. _Can probably pass it off as bad traffic._

He looks at Dele but Dele has his head resting against the window. He’s watching the trees blur by, his mouth squeezed shut.

“Del…”

“Do you regret it?” Dele blurts out. He tongues the inside of his mouth but keeps his eyes on the passing scenery.

Eric drums his finger on the steering wheel, thinking. “No,” he says. “Do you?”

Dele’s expression shifts. Eric glances at him, desperate for Dele to turn and look at him, but he refuses.

“No,” Dele says eventually. Eric isn’t sure if he means it or not.

“It’s fine, Del. It was just-”

Dele turns to him and shakes his head defiantly. “I don’t want that. I don’t want it to just be… to just-” Dele hesitates, the words eating him up. “I meant what I said. And it’s fine if you don’t… if you- I get it. You don’t, and I can’t expect you to-”

“I do, though,” Eric manages, even though his mouth his dry and his heart is going at a rate that he thinks might actually be dangerous. “I just thought that, that maybe you said it in the heat of the moment.”

“Yeah,” Dele says, unhelpfully.

_Yeah_ . _Yeah what?_

Eric can’t drive like this. He can’t concentrate, can’t think about what to say or do. He can’t even follow the directions of his sat nav. He doesn't know where he’s going.

_Where are we going?_

He pulls the car over again and puts it into neutral, leaving the engine running. It hums in the background of Eric’s jumbled and incoherent thoughts. Before he can speak, Dele turns to him.

“I said it in the moment but like…” Dele frowns and stares down at his hands in his lap. He looks scared and fragile, and Eric wants to kiss his mouth again. “I meant it, though. I know that’s, weird, or whatever. But yeah, no. I meant it.”

Eric really wants to kiss his mouth again.

“It’s fucking stupid, I know. Cause like, we’re not- or at least I didn’t think we were. But I am, maybe. Like, _like you._ I might like you. As more, you know. More than what we are now, or what we were half an hour ago. Is that stupid? Are you mad?”

Eric can’t help but smile at him, even though Dele looks like his world is crashing down around him. His hands are shaking so Eric cups them in his own.

“Not mad, no,” he says softly. He pauses and looks out into the road ahead. A small, somewhat amused laugh escapes him. “Del, I just fucked you in my back seats. I think it’s safe to say that maybe we are… well, whatever you wanna call it. More than what we were half an hour ago.”

Dele exhales and nods.

“I think I might like you too,” Eric adds quietly. The thought terrifies him, but not as much as the idea that this all meant nothing.

“Fuck, Diet,” Dele laughs. He shakes his head disbelievingly and runs his fingers through his hair. “What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first we’re going to drive to the airport, and then we’re going to go to Portugal and win the Nations League. And if we wanna do this again, maybe in Portugal or maybe after or maybe a year from now, then that’s no one’s business but our own.”

Dele bites back a smile and nods, letting the tension wash away. As Eric pulls the car back out into the road, Dele sinks into his seat and tries his best to keep his grin at bay. It only takes a few seconds before he can’t contain himself any longer.

“I mean, I’m happy to do it again in Portugal.”

Eric glances at him and laughs. He’s got one foot up on the seat again, chewing on his bottom lip, head tilted at an angle with the sunlight bouncing off his cheekbones. _So fucking inviting. So fucking beautiful._

“Oh, don’t worry Delboy, I’m definitely gonna fuck you in Portugal.”


	2. Chapter 2

Eric can’t stop thinking about it. 

When he’s at the airport and surrounded by the buzz of his teammates, when he’s fumbling with his passport at the private security desk, even when he’s hauling himself up the steps and boarding the plane to Portugal - he’s still thinking about fucking Dele on the back seat of his car. 

And Dele is thinking about it too. Eric can tell because sometimes he’ll see Dele completely zone out of a conversation a few meters away from him in the departure lounge. He’ll see Harry Kane rambling on to Dele about some TV show he’s watching or some cool Fortnite video he’s seen, and Dele will nod for a while, but then his eyes unfocus and he starts nodding in the wrong places. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and chews the inside of his mouth. At one point, he idly rubs the inside of his thigh with his fingertips. Then he catches Eric watching him and quickly snaps his gaze back to Harry, picking up the conversation like nothing ever happened. 

Eric can’t blame him, really. He’s glad Dele is thinking about it, and he’s glad when he sees a bulge beginning to show in Dele’s joggers at the airport. It gives him enough confidence to brush past Dele in the departure lounge and mumble  _ stop fucking touching yourself.  _

He walks away, leaving Dele staring after him with an open mouth and a blush creeping high up his neck. 

\--

“You want to play eye spy?” Dele asks when they’ve reached 35,000ft and everyone on the plane has settled down. He’s been staring quietly out of the window for a about twenty minutes now, completely lost in his own thoughts, and Eric has been wondering how long the peace and quiet would actually last. 

He takes his headphones out and inhales slowly, as if considering Dele’s request.  

“Can we play something else?” 

“Why not eye spy?” Dele asks, a little dejected. He turns to look at Eric with a sad smile and his big, puppy dog eyes. Eric has to look away from him and remind himself that he’s  _ not  _ this gay. He will  _ not  _ be swayed by Dele’s long eyelashes and cute pouty mouth, or that sad face that he makes when he doesn’t get his way. 

“You always do the same thing for eye spy,” Eric points out. He wills himself to stay strong and not give in to Dele’s pleading glances. “I’ve got a pack of cards in my bag. I can teach you some more games.” 

Dele studies him for a moment and Eric isn’t sure what is happening. He watches Dele tongue the inside of his cheek and  _ swears _ he sees the corner of Dele’s mouth pull into a slight smile. Eric wants to tell him that no, he’s not getting his way, they’re not playing eye spy again. He narrows his gaze at Dele but Dele simply goes back to looking out of the window. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C.” 

Eric sighs. He’s really not happy with the balance of power right now but he figures he did have his dick buried inside Dele’s asshole three hours ago, so one game of eye spy won’t hurt. 

“Clouds,” Eric says easily. Dele is absolutely terrible at this game and they both know it.

Dele turns and grins smugly at him. “No, not clouds, Diet.” 

Eric pulls his gaze away from Dele’s mouth and brings it to his dark brown eyes instead, trying to see past them and into the labyrinth of Dele’s mind. He frowns a little, keeping his expression stoic and hard, but Dele doesn’t break. He blinks back at Eric, giving nothing away. After a few more seconds have passed, he slides his tongue along the underside of his top lip for no reason at all. 

Eric looks away and swallows thickly. This is exactly what Dele was doing in the car when he had a hard on and he wanted Eric to know about it. This is exactly what he was doing when he was on his knees in the gravel, pressed between Eric and the side of Eric’s car. He was licking his lips like this when Eric first felt Dele’s mouth against the tip of his cock. 

_ No,  _ they’re not doing this again, not here. Eric can’t exactly land the plane for ten minutes so that he can take Dele outside and make him suck him off on the tarmac. That would just be insane, and ridiculous, and yet still somehow sort of hot-

“Earth to Eric Dier!” Dele says dramatically, waving a hand close in front of Eric’s face. Too close. Eric bats it away and frowns at him. 

“What?”

“You were off in dreamland. You need to guess again. Clouds was wrong.” 

“I don’t know,” Eric sighs. He brushes away the remaining thoughts in his head of Dele’s warm, wet mouth and shuffles in his seat, assessing his surroundings for clues. “Erm, cabin? Cabin bags?” 

“No, that’s boring.” Dele opens his legs and knocks his knee into Eric’s. “Keep guessing.” 

“Er… Callum Wilson?” 

Dele makes a face at him and leans up in his seat to look down the plane. He braces himself with a hand on Eric’s thigh, his fingertips digging in just a little too much for it to be accidental. 

“Can’t even see him,” Dele says, shrugging. He sits back down but leaves his hand on Eric’s thigh for a few seconds longer. His legs are still open and his lips are wet and looking somewhat bruised.  _ Did I bite them?  _ Eric thinks to himself. He tries to remember back to the car, to being on top of Dele and kissing him. It had felt weird, but a good weird.  _ Did I bite your lips?  _ He thinks he might have done. 

“I don’t know,” Eric says, his voice faltering. He’s completely lost his train of thought and he hates eye spy anyway. 

“Circumference of the Earth,” Dele answers proudly. Eric blinks at him and waits for him to explain, but Dele just keeps grinning at him like he thinks he’s the smartest person in the world. Eric closes his eyes for a second and looks away, trying his best to remember how he even became friends with Dele in the first place. 

“I don’t think you know what circumference means,” Eric says quietly, and as politely as he can manage. 

Dele glances out of the window and nods at whatever it is he thinks he’s looking at. “Yeah I do,” he argues. He falls quiet for a moment and then adds, “Diet, do you remember the first time we flew together?” 

Eric thinks back to the first time he got on a plane with Dele. It wasn’t long after Dele had signed for Spurs, and Eric had taken pity on him and agreed to sit with him because Dele didn’t really have any other friends at the club. At least, that’s what Eric told himself at the time. He now knows full well he would have picked Dele anyway, regardless of any other offers. 

“Yeah, you were scared of flying,” Eric says, feeling his chest swell at the memory. He’d held Dele’s hand under a blanket throughout the takeoff because Dele hadn’t had much experience with flying and he was convinced something was going to go wrong. 

“I still sort of am.”

“I remember holding your hand,” Eric says softly. He curls his mouth into a fond smile. “You didn’t let go for about fifteen minutes.”

“Do you remember our first night at the Euros?” Dele asks, leaning his head back against his seat and keeping his lips parted. He stares at Eric with heavy, slow-blinking eyes, and Eric notices a subtle shift in his tone. He knows exactly what Dele is getting at - their first night at the Euros was when they’d fallen asleep in the same bed. Dele had woken up in the middle of the night and stumbled over to Eric’s bed while Eric was watching French TV. He’d crashed down out of nowhere, mumbled something about being cold, and then fell asleep with his hand thrown lazily across Eric’s stomach. 

“Yeah I remember that night,” Eric answers tentatively. “I remember the creaky air-conditioning.”

Dele tongues the inside of his mouth. There it is, the same look in his eyes that Eric saw at the airport. “Do you remember earlier? When we had to pull over because I needed some fresh air?” 

Eric stares at him again. “Yeah, I remember that.” 

Dele nods back at him and then suddenly turns to look back out of the window. Eric briefly wonders if that’s it, if the conversation is over now, but then Dele quietly adds, “I wish I could get some fresh air right now.” 

Eric pauses and leans back in his seat. He glances around to see if anybody is paying them any attention. Raheem is sitting on the other side of the aisle by himself but he’s got his headphones in and looks like he’s fast asleep. The row in front of them is empty. The row in front of that is Pickford, but he’s playing games on his phone. 

“You can get some fresh air later, when we land in Portugal,” Eric says eventually, like it’s just a passing comment.

“When we land?” Dele repeats as he turns back to Eric, his tone hopeful and eager.

“Well, no,” Eric tilts his head to one side sympathetically. “Not as soon as we land. But tonight, I think? I think we could get some fresh air tonight? If you wanted.” 

“I want that, yeah,” Dele answers, nodding emphatically. He inhales and exhales, and his fingers press against the inside of his thigh again. “Fresh air tonight. Sounds good.” 

Eric’s gaze follows Dele’s hand down to his thigh, but Dele doesn’t care that he’s being watched. His fingers press deeper and Eric makes a mental note to come back to that later. To explore that spot on the inside of Dele’s thigh that’s making him twitch like that.  _ Gonna bite it, kiss it, suck it,  _ Eric thinks. The images of Dele’s naked body come barreling back through his brain and he has to take a sip of water to calm himself.

“Eye spy with my little eye something beginning with D,” Eric begins. 

\--

By the time they actually arrive at the hotel, Dele is making almost no effort at all to be subtle about what he wants. 

He spends the entire plane ride touching the inside of his legs, keeping them open and hitting his knee against Eric’s just to remind him of that fact. 

He hangs around at border control with Harry but stares at Eric across the room, chewing his bottom lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively whenever he catches Eric’s line of sight. 

He sits with Eric on the coach to the hotel and pointedly flicks through photos on his phone, knowing full well Eric can see him. There’s photos on there from girls - sometimes clothed and sometimes not - but more importantly there’s the photos Dele has sent back. Eric looks over and catches glimpses of Dele’s body - his boxers, his stomach, his hands. Everything leading to one place. Everything focused around the hard on that Dele  _ just about _ manages to conceal in every photo. 

Eric actually has to hiss  _ behave  _ in Dele’s ear when Dele scrolls past some video he’s made. The thumbnail is Dele lying on his bed in his boxers, his hand already under the waistband. 

So between the open legs and the lip biting and the naughty videos, Dele really is making no effort at all to be subtle about this. 

And if that’s the way he wants it to be, then Eric is more than happy to oblige. 

In the hotel lobby, when everyone is crowded around Gareth and waiting to hear what the plans are for dinner, Eric slides up behind Dele and presses his hand to his lower back. 

“Get up to the room,” he says quietly next to Dele’s ear.

Dele tenses up in front of him and exhales shakily. “What about dinner?” 

“I need to work up an appetite,” Eric replies in a low, gravelly tone. His stomach is in knots again, the same way it was in the car when he’d pulled over and Dele was looking at him expectantly. _He’s waiting for orders,_ Eric’s brain tells him. “Get up to the room. Now.” 

Dele nods wordlessly and trails off towards the lifts. Nobody even notices him slip away, so a few seconds later, Eric follows after him. 

\--

The room is nothing like the room they had at the Euros, or their first room in Russia. This one is big and spacious and modern. It has two double beds. It has a silent, fully-functioning A/C. It has a TV built into the wall and a floor-to-ceiling fridge stocked with fruit and water and more Lucozade than any human being actually needs. It has pretty patio doors that open out onto a balcony bathed in sunshine. Dele has already opened the doors, but he’s pulled the thin white netting across it, letting it billow softly in the breeze.  

When Eric steps inside the room, Dele isn’t there. He figures he’s standing on the other side of the netting, out on the balcony soaking up the last of the Portuguese evening sun. Eric imagines Dele with his eyes closed, head held back and up towards the sky. He imagines sliding up behind him and kissing his neck, the skin warm and prickled with heat. 

“What took you so long?” A familiar voice says when Eric is halfway across the room towards the balcony. He spins on the spot to find Dele staring at him from beneath hooded eyes, already chewing his bottom lip again. He closes the bathroom door behind him and raises his eyebrows questioningly. 

“I was ten seconds behind you,” Eric points out. He looks him up and down - the white Nike shirt, the grey England joggers, the Gucci socks pulled up too high - so very Dele. A flash of panic strikes him again.  _ Best friend. Can’t do this. _ He slowly walks back across the room.  _ Shouldn’t do this.  _ Dele presses himself against the bathroom door and tilts his head upwards, smiling coyly at Eric.  _ You’re going to make me do this.  _

“Too long,” Dele mumbles. Eric is already there, already pinning Dele’s wrists above his head against the door. “Made me wait too long,” Dele says into the small space between them. Eric doesn’t answer. He angles his head with the line of Dele’s jaw and licks the area where his jaw meets his neck. Dele melts beneath him, sinking down into his heels, but Eric holds him in place by his wrists, both of them clasped together by Eric’s hand. 

Eric licks up Dele’s neck and stops at his ear. He takes Dele’s ear lobe in his mouth and nibbles at it, relishing in the gasp that escapes Dele’s mouth in return. He smiles against Dele’s ear before moving back down to the taut, tanned skin on Dele’s neck. He opens his mouth and bites softly, using his tongue to lick and soothe the skin the second Dele flinches beneath him. 

“Too fucking long,” Dele says. He’s mumbling to himself but Eric isn’t paying much attention. He keeps Dele’s hands above his head, keeps his mouth on Dele’s neck, and keeps his hips pressed flush into Dele’s. They’re both hard already, but Eric was half hard before he even got into the hotel room. 

“You like this?” Eric murmurs against the hollow of Dele’s neck. “You like me?” He bites down again and sucks at the skin, toying with the idea of leaving a love bite.  _ Too risky,  _ he tells himself. He forces himself to pull away, and instead marvels at the hot blush around Dele’s collar bone. He uses his finger to trace the faint etchings of his teeth marks.  _ I did that.  _ Dele nods against him, his breathing shaky, his chest heaving. 

“Kiss me,” Dele whispers. Eric leans away enough to look Dele in the eye. He releases his hold of Dele’s wrists and lets his arms fall to his sides. Dele bites his bottom lip and sinks back against the door. “Kiss me, Eric.” 

Eric smiles at him.  _ You’re so fucking beautiful when you look at me like that.  _

“Eric,” Dele’s voice is small and pleading. He reaches out with his hands and tugs on the hem of Eric’s shirt as a whine escapes him. “Eric, please, please kiss me.”

Eric has never seen Dele like this before. Cool, charming Dele whose looks can cut you like a knife. The loveable nerd with his Fortnite dances and terrible singing, the self-proclaimed fashion king, the energetic trickster who brings life and momentum to the pitch.  _ Who knew you could be so needy? _

Dele pulls on the hem of Eric’s shirt again, desperate for Eric to give him what he wants. He’s still got Eric’s teeth marks on the side of his neck, and the small beginnings of a love bite. He’s hard in his joggers and rocking on his heels. He lets out a soft whine in protest at the lack of being kissed right now.  _ So fucking beautiful.  _

Eric places his hand on the side of Dele’s face, cupping his cheek in his palm. The warm, soft skin fills his hand and he can’t resist skimming his thumb over Dele’s cheekbone. 

He leans in slowly, capturing Dele’s lips in a kiss that leaves Dele instantly reaching for more. He chases Eric’s mouth with his own and Eric smiles against him, wants to laugh at how ridiculous and crazy and  _ right  _ this all feels. Six hours ago he was straight. Six hours ago he was picking his best friend up to take to the airport. Six hours ago he thought he might be able to pick up a girl in Portugal if he was lucky. 

And he has been lucky. 

Dele licks at Eric’s mouth, mumbling utter nonsense again. Eric makes a comment about it in his head, something along the lines of  _ kissing makes you dumb,  _ but he can’t form the words because Dele keeps pressing kisses to Eric’s mouth, keeps whining and moaning and making noises which are turning Eric’s brain to nothing but static. He opens his mouth and lets Dele’s warm, wet tongue meet his own. 

It could be twenty seconds or it could be twenty minutes. Eric isn’t sure how long he’s making out with Dele for. 

He’s got Dele back up against the bathroom door, hands lifting Dele’s white t-shirt up and over his head. It falls to the floor somewhere unimportant. Dele mutters something about the door. Eric shuts him up with a heated kiss, desperate for more of Dele’s mouth and its warm, inviting sweetness.  _ Chewing gum, the bubblegum flavoured one. And mouthwash. You used mouthwash. That’s what you were doing in the bathroom.  _ Dele says  _ door  _ again and Eric breaks away long enough to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah?” Eric breathes hastily. He doesn’t know what Dele is going on about. The bathroom door, maybe? He wants Eric to fuck him against the bathroom door? 

“Lock it,” Dele says, somewhat exasperated.  _ Lock it.  _ Eric’s brain suddenly registers the words and their meaning.  _ Hotel door.  _

Eric leaves Dele slumped against the bathroom door while he walks back across to the main one. It’s unlocked, and outside Eric can hear people milling about. He locks the door and checks the handle. Nobody is getting in. 

“Door’s locked-” Eric begins. He tapers off when he turns and finds Dele already on the bed, hands scrambling at the waistband of his joggers. He pulls them down to his ankles and kicks them off while Eric watches him hungrily, standing halfway between the door and the bed.

Without realising what he’s doing, his hand wanders down to his own joggers. His fingers curl around the outline of his cock and press against it. His eyes are still trained on Dele’s body, all stretched out on the bed like that, all warm and inviting and like he’s been sculpted from marble. The perfect curve of muscle in every limb, the soft dip of his waistline, the fingers that drum against the bed sheets impatiently, and the hard, desperate look in his eyes as he fixates on Eric and waits for his next instructions. 

He’s all but offered himself up for the taking, and Eric has most certainly worked up an appetite. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Eric asks as he walks over to the bed. He’s still groping himself through his joggers, trying to quieten the ache that has settled there. 

Dele nods eagerly and holds out his hand for Eric to take. As soon as Eric intertwines their fingers, Dele is pulling him onto the bed. Eric lands on top of him and momentarily worries that he’s actually going to crush him, but he braces himself on his knees either side of Dele’s hips. 

Dele bucks up into him with a shit-eating grin. “I want this,” he says. He lifts his hips again, pushing his cock against Eric’s ass. Eric raises an eyebrow. 

“You want to fuck me?” He says, laughing a little to mask the worry. It suddenly dawns on him that that could actually be about to happen. He  _ did  _ fuck Dele earlier, so it wouldn’t be completely outrageous for Dele to want a turn in the driver’s seat. Eric had really not anticipated this at all and now he’s-

“What? No,” Dele says, interrupting Eric’s mild panic. He keeps his fingers laced with Eric’s and squeezes. “No. I want you to fuck me. Like earlier.” 

Eric leans down and presses a kiss to the side of Dele’s jaw. He can feel Dele’s dick beneath him, as painfully hard as his own. “What else do you want me to do?” Eric asks quietly against his jaw. He trails soft kisses down to his neck as Dele moans softly. 

“Touch me,” Dele answers nervously. Eric nods and kisses beneath his ear. 

“What else?”

“Finger me,” Dele murmurs. “I liked that. I liked it when you fingered me.” 

“I know,” Eric whispers. He places another kiss on the sensitive stretch of skin where he’d considered leaving a love bite.

“I want you to fuck me like I’m the hottest girl you’ve ever seen,” Dele says suddenly. His breath catches in his throat, like the statement had slipped out of him without him meaning it to. It fills the entire room and Eric leans back to look at him curiously. Dele’s eyes are wide, almost apologetic. 

“You  _ are  _ the hottest girl I’ve ever seen,” Eric says easily. He watches Dele swallow around the lump in his throat. It’s endearing to see him so flustered and flattered at the same time. Eric almost wishes he could bottle this moment up and save it, come back to it again and again. Cool, charming Dele whose looks can cut you like a knife. The loveable nerd with his Fortnite dances and terrible singing, the self-proclaimed fashion king, and the hottest girl Eric has ever seen. 

He presses a kiss to Dele’s  mouth and smiles. He remembers Dele’s incoherent mumbling in the car, and the  _ I love you _ that followed. He gets it now. He gets how these things can slip out sometimes.

“Let’s get these off you,” Eric says, tugging on Dele’s boxershorts. He hooks his fingers over the waistband and pulls them down in one easy motion, leaving Dele completely naked and exposed beneath him. 

Dele brings his knees up in protest at being the only one stripped of all his clothes, but Eric tuts and shakes his head. He places his hands on Dele’s knees and gently eases them apart, fixing Dele with a soft, encouraging smile. Dele bites down on the corner of his mouth. Eric loves how the blush colours his cheekbones.

“I want to see you,” Eric pleads. He presses a kiss to Dele’s knee, and then the other. 

Dele submits and lets Eric guide his legs apart. He lies completely still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the tender, fragile heart that thumps away beneath. Eric can tell he’s still nervous about being so exposed, so he kisses the inside of Dele’s knee, and then another a little lower down, and then another and another until Eric is at the soft flesh of Dele’s inner thigh. He finds the area that Dele has been touching all day and licks it, bites it, sucks on it until he’s drawing the most delicious noises out of Dele’s mouth. 

“Too long,” Dele mumbles. Eric glances up at him from between his legs. He knows what Dele is saying. He knew right from the moment he stepped inside the room and Dele scolded him for making him wait too long. It’s not about the ten seconds that it took for Eric to follow him upstairs - it’s about the four years that they waited to finally do this.  _ Four years too long _ , Eric thinks.

“I’m here now,” Eric answers. He looks down at Dele’s cock just inches beneath his mouth and marvels at the sheer amount of precome Dele has now leaked across his stomach. It glistens in the trail of hair. “I’m here now,” he says again, and then before Dele can respond, he brings his mouth to the tip of Dele’s cock and licks at the precome.

Dele squirms beneath him the entire time and Eric fucking loves it. He loves that he has to hold Dele down by his hips as he sucks him off. He loves that Dele is frustratingly loud. He loves that Dele digs his fingertips into the bed, or into the back of Eric’s shoulders, or combs them through Eric’s hair because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. He loves that Dele fills the room with Eric’s name, with  _ fuck fuck fuck  _ and  _ oh my god _ and  _ yeah, yeah, like that, god.  _

And he loves the taste of Dele’s dick in his mouth. He loves that this doesn’t feel strange or foreign at all, even though it’s the first time he’s ever done this. 

He focuses on dipping his head at the right moment so that he can take Dele’s dick to the back of his throat. It makes him gag the first time, but the second time he angles his head better and it’s much more comfortable. The third time he makes sure to gather enough saliva, and spits it down Dele’s cock as he slides himself deeper on it. Dele’s moans erupt from him and his fingers scramble in Eric’s hair. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ Diet, stop!” Dele chokes out. Eric pulls himself off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks to Dele and feels his chest go tight with worry. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asks tentatively. He looks down at Dele’s cock but it’s still throbbing in his hand. He lets go off it, his hand settling carefully on the inside of Dele’s thigh instead. 

Dele shakes his head disbelievingly and pants through his strained laughter. “No,” he says, “no you didn’t hurt me. You nearly made me fucking come.” 

“Oh,” Eric says, smiling smugly. He leans down and licks up the length of Dele cock, making Dele flinch and whimper again. “Sorry about that.” 

Dele throws his head back and groans. “ _ Eric _ ,” he breathes. Eric grins and kisses his lower stomach. 

“Turn over, Del.” 

“Why?” Dele asks, his voice catching. He does it anyway before Eric has even given him an answer. 

“Because I’m going to finger you, like you asked,” Eric responds calmly. Dele buries his face into the pillow and lifts his hips into the air. Eric stares at him and swallows thickly. With Dele’s back arched like that and his ass in the air just  _ waiting  _ to be fucked, it’s all Eric can do not to climb on top of him and bury his dick inside him there and then. 

But he opts to take it slow, because even though they’re being cocky and confident and acting like this is all completely fine, Eric knows this bubble is bound to burst at some point. It’s  _ not  _ fine that they’re fucking around, sucking each off and fucking in the back seat of Eric’s car. It’s  _ not  _ fine that Dele has spent the whole day keeping Eric just a little bit hard, or that they’ve completely written off dinner in favour of mapping out each other’s bodies instead. Eric knows that big questions are lurking just outside the locked door of their hotel room, questions that could break their friendship apart completely. But for now the door stays locked, and Dele stays on all fours, and he’s just too fucking inviting to turn down. 

Eric takes it slow. He uses Dele’s precome as lubricant and slowly fucks him with his finger. Just one for a while, perched at Dele’s knees and angling upwards to make Dele squirm every time he hits his prostate. 

The second finger goes in easily, but Dele’s moans become so loud and obnoxious that Eric has to lean forward and cover his mouth with his free hand. It takes barely a few seconds before Eric suddenly feels a warmth against his fingers, and he realises Dele is licking them. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Eric laughs. He pushes his fingers in harder and Dele lurches forward, eyes fluttering shut. To keep him quiet, Eric lets his fingers slide inside Dele’s mouth. 

The way Dele licks around them and coats them in saliva leaves Eric’s brain reeling. He knows he’s leaking in his boxers and if he doesn’t fuck Dele soon, he might come regardless. 

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen,” Eric begins. The words pour out him with every thrust of his fingers in Dele’s ass. “You’re so fucking hot like this. No one has ever seen you like this have they?” His dick strains painfully against the inside of his boxers. He’s still fully clothed but he knows that as soon as he drops his joggers, he’s not going to last long. “No one has seen you beg like this, or moan my name that loud. No one has seen your pretty face sucking on my cock. No one has felt the way you squirm when I do this,” Eric adds, and he hooks his fingers up towards Dele’s prostate again. 

Dele’s legs begin to shake and he garbles another moan around Eric’s fingers. 

“I’m going to fuck you, Del.” 

Dele nods. It’s all he can manage. 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

Dele nods again, harder this time. Eric tries to take his fingers out of Dele’s mouth but Dele won’t let him. He bites down and sucks on them, sending shockwaves through Eric’s body that almost make him come. 

Eric pulls his fingers out of Dele’s ass and mouth at the same time, leaving Dele whimpering. 

“Eric…” Dele begins. Eric kisses him forcefully and yanks on his own joggers, pulling them down to his knees. In one smooth motion he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side of the bed. 

“Get on your back,” Eric commands. Dele does as he’s told and parts his legs again. 

Eric fumbles with his joggers until they’re at his ankles, and then he pulls them over his feet and shoves them off the bed. His boxers come down easier, and then they’re gone, too, until he’s just perched in the middle of the bed on his knees, with Dele beneath him and staring rather obviously at his cock.

“Suck me,” Eric commands. He doesn't know where the confidence to act like this is coming from, but it feels good. Especially when Dele follows his orders without hesitation. 

Dele’s mouth feels just like it did on the side of the road. He’s overly eager and sucks a little too hard, but Eric doesn’t stop him. It feels so fucking good, seeing Dele’s head moving down there like he can’t get enough, like this is what his mouth was made for. 

“Okay, okay,” Eric says suddenly. He’s too fucking close for Dele to be doing stuff like that with his tongue. He’s too close for Dele’s fingers to be caressing his balls like that. So he pulls himself out of Dele’s mouth and moves around to position himself between Dele’s legs. He places a hand on Dele’s hip. “You sure about this?” He asks one more time.

Dele nods and covers Eric’s hand with his own. “ _ Please _ .” 

Eric lines his dick up with Dele’s asshole and gradually eases inside of him. It takes a few seconds for Dele to give way, but then it’s warm and wet and almost as if Eric never left. 

_ Fuck.  _

It’s as if Eric has thought about doing this way more times in the past four years than he would ever admit.

“I’m not, going, to last long,” Dele says guiltily between gasps. Eric nods because yeah, he doesn’t even know if he’s going to be able to make it to the one minute mark himself. Which usually would be pretty embarrassing, but this is his best friend he’s fucking, and it’s his best friend’s ass that is squeezing around his cock right now. This is cool, charming Dele whose looks can cut you like a knife. And Eric is fucking him.  _ Again. _

Dele wraps his legs around Eric’s middle and Eric leans forward, bracing himself on his hands either side of Dele’s shoulders. He ducks his head for quick kisses every now and then, but mostly they just focus on breathing and fucking. 

That is, until Dele gets so loud that Eric has no choice but to lick into his mouth to shut him the fuck up. He bites down on Dele’s bottom lip as he thrusts into him.

Dele’s cock rubs against his stomach, leaving a trail of sticky precome every time Eric moves against him. Eric reaches down between their bodies to wrap a hand around it. He finds a rhythm that has Dele choking out obscenities. 

“Be quiet,” Eric hisses. 

Dele whines loudly in response. “Eric, Eric,  _ Eric _ -” 

“Del-”

“ _ Eric _ .” 

“Del, fucking be quiet.” 

“I love you-” 

Eric thrusts harder and faster. His head is swimming. He’s so fucking close and he can feel the wetness of Dele’s dick all over his fingers. The words rattle around in his brain.  _ I love you.  _ He breathes them in, Dele’s lucid confessions. He kisses them right off of Dele’s lips and swallows them down.  _ I love you.  _ Dele says it again, and Eric feels it in his chest before he feels it in his lower stomach. The pleasure swells like fire, and then it takes all the strength that he has to keep himself upright, to not collapse all over Dele in a heap. 

He buries his face in the crook of Dele’s neck and closes his eyes. He couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. 

“Dele-  _ fuck. _ ”

His hand keeps moving but he isn’t sure how. Every fibre in his body burns with the building pressure, and then he’s spilling his come inside Dele with three erratic thrusts. 

“Fuck- Eric, I’m gonna-” Dele chokes out. Eric tries not to black out, tries to focus on what he’s doing instead of on the stars that are clouding his vision. He moves his hand up and down against the wetness until he feels Dele start to shake beneath him. He kisses Dele’s mouth to capture the inevitable moan before the hot liquid spurts out of him and coats Eric’s fingers.

Eric holds himself up a minute longer. Long enough to pull himself back out of Dele and grimace at how sensitive he is. Dele whimpers in response, and for a second Eric swears he feels Dele actually squeeze around his cock in an attempt to keep him there. 

“Del…” Eric begins. He doesn’t know what to do with the come all over his hand so he just wipes it on the bedsheets and figures they’ll sort it out later. He kisses Dele’s shoulder and throws himself down onto the bed next to him, still catching his breath. He credits himself for lasting at least five minutes, which is five more than he was expecting. 

Dele closes his eyes and exhales slowly. His legs fold back down against the bed and they both lie in a heated silence for a few minutes, neither of them quite knowing how to address what has happened today.

The big questions are knocking at the door, and Eric doesn’t know if there will ever be a safe time to let them in. So he figures he might as well just lay everything on the table. He’s naked, he’s got Dele’s come smeared across his stomach, and his entire body is hot and sweaty with the effort fucking his best friend. 

He turns his head to the side to look at Dele. Cool, charming Dele whose looks can cut you like a knife, or can make your heart swell, depending on his mood. Beautiful, charming Dele who has also been the one object of Eric’s affection for four years now. He’s right there,  _ right there,  _ and with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. With a blush still hot on his cheekbones. With traces of Eric all over him and inside him. 

It suddenly hits Eric like a brick. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

Dele’s eyes flutter open. He turns to look at Eric and smiles warmly. “Eye spy with my little eye something beginning with E.” 

“Del…” Eric’s voice is shaking. He doesn’t want to play silly games. He means this and he needs Dele to know that he really fucking means this and-

“Eric,” Dele says softly, once again cutting off Eric’s train of thought. Eric focuses his gaze on Dele and stares at him in confusion. “Eric is my answer. Because that’s all I ever see. All I see, all I feel, all I want. Every day.” 

Eric’s hand settles on the duvet in the space between them. He extends his fingers, brushing against the soft material.

“All I see, all I feel, all I want. Every day,” Dele repeats. He brings his own hand to meet Eric’s and laces their fingers together. His eyes search Eric’s face before he curls his mouth into a fond smile.  _ You’re so fucking beautiful when you look at me like this, _ Eric thinks.  _ How long have you been looking at me like this? Weeks? Months? Years?  _ Eric can barely remember a time when Dele didn’t look like the sun was bursting out of him every time he smiled. 

“Too long,” Eric mutters. He swallows around the bundle of emotions that have built up in his throat and looks down at their laced fingers. He’s not talking about the ten seconds that it took him to follow Dele upstairs. He’s talking about the four years they waited to do this. Dele strokes the skin on the back of Eric’s hand with his thumb. 

“I’m here now,” he whispers.  

“I’m here too,” Eric says. He squeezes Dele’s hand and closes his eyes when Dele leans in to kiss him.

_ Finally,  _ he thinks when Dele’s lips move against his own.  _ We’re here.  _


End file.
